


For When I Saw You The World Was Suddenly Right

by silvergenesis



Series: A Shift in Reality [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Alec Lightwood, BAMF Magnus Bane, First Meetings, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Pre-Relationship, Role Reversal, Shadowhunter Magnus Bane, Victor Aldetree is Incredibly Useless In This, Warlock Alec Lightwood, Wingfic, it was necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 10:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17547593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergenesis/pseuds/silvergenesis
Summary: “Why hello there,” Magnus says unable to help the flirtatious tone in his voice.  “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.  I’m Magnus Bane.”“Alec.  Alec Lightwood,” Alec replies still staring at Magnus, looking a little stunned.  Magnus could have remained that way all day firmly ensconced in Alec’s warm embrace, gazing into each other’s eyes.“I should-- uh-- I should-- I need to-- um-- I need to get the ichor out,” Alec stutters.___In which almost love at first sight occurs and plenty of sandwiches are eaten.  And some demons are slain.





	For When I Saw You The World Was Suddenly Right

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for gracing this fic with your presence! Seriously, this was supposed to just be Warlock!Alec meeting Shadowhunter!Magnus for the first time and Alec giving Magnus his cellphone number but it ballooned into this monstrosity that insisted on character development and set ups for further fics to come. That's right, you heard it here first, there's supposed to be more to this universe, a fair few fics in fact! Hopefully I'll find the time to write it out.
> 
> In the meanwhile please enjoy reading this fic!
> 
> DISCLAIMERS: I have not read the books and have only watched the TV series up to the end of season 2. (I'm waiting for 3B to coming out so I can just blitz through all of it in one go.) Thus my knowledge of the series and character descriptions is limited to the TV series and The Mortal Instrument wiki searches I did.
> 
> It took me awhile, but I realized that my characterization of Downworlder-Shadowhunter relationship is a little on the warm and friendly side. Please just roll with it; I was well into writing this when I realized my faux pas and by that time, I was enjoying the interplay of the characters too much to try to recast everything in a more unfriendly light. I have come up with several reasons why this specific set of characters had such a warm report with each other though it's not specifically mentioned in this particular fic.
> 
> I took creative license with many things about the mechanics of the Shadowhunter's universe in this fic, too many to list. So if you have a gripe with the way some thing in my fic works, please chalk it up to that. Feel free to point it out to me in the comments, but in a calm and respectful manner please. I won't change the fic, but I will keep it in mind for future Shadowhunter's works I may create.
> 
> This is not beta read so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> EDIT: March 8, 2019- Added missing italicization -- I didn't realize they weren't there until I started referencing this page while writing this fics sequel!-- and corrected minor errors. Plus I decided to refer to Cat as Catarina instead.

“Do I have to?”

There’s a moment of silence before Ragnor turns very slowly to give Victor Aldertree a long and unimpressed stare from underneath his pale white eyebrows.

Magnus tries not to giggle.

“Victor, please,” Lydia Branwell says, expression exasperated. “We’re both depleted. Closing not one but two major rifts each is draining as hell. I’m surprised we’re not both passed out right now. Now there’s a new, even bigger one in Central Park not to mention the other one by the harbor.” She gestures with her hand, taking in the bank of monitors before them displaying a map of New York. Tiny red marks are sprinkled across it like freckles, each mark indicating the location of each of the hundred or so active rifts currently spewing out hordes of demons all over New York. There’s a huge one smack dab in the middle of Central Park and a slightly smaller one hovering near the Jade Wolf’s location.

“We need their help,” Lydia says. “I’m pretty much standing here by force of will right now Victor.” She motions at the conveniently placed cement column she’s currently leaning heavily against. “I don’t think I could open a portal to save my life.”

“Call the Lightwoods, Victor,” she says when Aldertree still hasn’t made a move. “I will do it myself if I have to, but you’re the High Warlock, the request should be coming from you.”

Aldertree’s jaw tenses and his expression remains dark and thunderous, the way it had become when Lydia had first suggested this course of action.

“Oh honestly Aldertree,” Ragnor says, Lydia’s exasperation reflected ten-fold on his face. “I don’t know what problem you have with the Lightwoods, but get over it!” He gestures fiercely at the monitors. “My shadowhunters can get the smaller rifts but we can’t deal with the bigger ones; those need a warlock. Unless you have some other magical solution that we can put to use I suggest you figure yourself out and call the Lightwoods before people start getting hurt and dying!”

“There are no other solutions,” Lydia says with gritted teeth. “Victor, please!”

“Fine! Fine!” Aldertree snaps. “I’ll call Isabelle. She’s the only one who I have a number for anyways.” With sharp, jerky movements he takes out his phone and pokes angrily at the screen before bringing the device to his ear.

Ragnor turns away from the warlocks, ostensibly to study another bank of monitors displaying the tactical locations of all the shadowhunter patrols out dealing with this most recent crisis, but the moment his back is to them, Magnus sees Ragnor roll his eyes at Catarina. Catarina’s face remains the picture of calm professionalism, but Magnus spies the tiniest hint of a smile tilting the corner of her lips up.

It’s no secret that Ragnor deeply dislikes working with Victor Aldertree. The previous High Warlock, a perky redhead named Clarissa Fairchild, had recently vacated the post as of last year, citing personal reasons. While Ragnor had never been overly fond of Clary on a personal level-- her ever sunny disposition was anathema to Ragnor’s permanent distaste for joy and happiness-- she had at least been competent at her job. Aldertree has spent most of his first year as High Warlock bumbling from one mess to another and the best any of them had been able to hope for was that he didn’t make a situation worse by involving himself in it.

Lydia Branwell has been the only saving grace of Aldertree’s tenure so far. It is mostly through her efforts that the warlock side of things still operates with a modicum of efficiency and order. Magnus knows Ragnor has taken to calling Lydia first for anything requiring a warlock as much as he can possibly get away with.

Aldertree returns almost immediately from his phone conversation.

“That was fast,” Lydia says.

“Yes.” Aldertree’s face twists with annoyance. “They’re portalling here now. I should head outside to meet--”

There’s a sudden whooshing sound and Magnus watches with raised eyebrows as a portal spins into existence mere steps away from where they are gathered. He exchanges a look with Raphael and Catarina. Ragnor’s expression is livid, his pale white hair seemingly standing on end with his rage.

Before anyone can say anything, a man and a woman step through. Both are shockingly good looking. The man has golden blonde hair and striking blue eyes, one of them shot through with a hint of brown. He’s dressed in a well tailored suit that does little to hide his muscular build. The woman is almost his opposite with long dark locks and sensual brown eyes. She’s dressed in a gorgeous plum coloured sheath dress that accentuates all her curves, makeup done beautifully, standing tall in five-inch heels.

“Why hello there,” the woman speaks first, her lips curling into a smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief. She eyes all of them, taking longer to look over Magnus and Raphael which has Magnus preening subconsciously. Beside him, Magnus can almost feel Raphael’s eyes rolling.

“How did you get in here with a portal?” Ragnor demands, clearly unmoved by the striking good looks of the pair. “The wards are supposed to prevent that!” He sends an angry glare at Aldertree who just glares at the woman, face pale and jaw tense.

“Oops,” she says, bringing her hand delicately to her mouth, affecting a contrite expression. The effect is ruined by the smirk curling her ruby red lips. Beside her, the blonde snorts. “The wards, uh, might have been a bit, how shall we say it?” The woman frowns and looks around dramatically before saying. “Untended? They could do with a boost I think.” She looks wide eyed and innocent at Ragnor who sends another blistering glare at Aldertree.

“I performed ward maintenance just last week,” Aldertree says through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I’m sorry then,” the woman says tone not at all apologetic. “We’ll just use the front door next time.”

“Or, Aldertree, you could learn how to cast some proper warding,” the blond says, finally speaking for the first time. His tone is cutting and sarcastic and he’s boredly studying his nails.

Aldertree sputters, outraged.

“Alright, we should get to the point of why we called you here,” Lydia says suddenly, taking a wobbly step forward to interrupt the tangent the conversation is taking. “Jace, Isabelle, thank you for coming on such short notice. It’s nice to see you despite the circumstances.”

“Lyds you know it’s always a pleasure to see you! And we couldn’t ignore the summons, especially when it came directly from our most esteemed High Warlock,” the woman, Isabelle, says, her tone and expression just this side of mocking. Aldertree bristles.

Lydia continues on before any further inflammatory comments can be made. “This is Ragnor Fell, Head of the New York Institute, Catarina Loss, Raphael Santiago and Magnus Bane.” She points to each shadowhunter as she introduces them, each of them nodding as she lists them off. “Everyone, meet Jace and Isabelle Lightwood.”

“How do you do?” Isabelle says, like she’s some sort of dame from the 1920s. Jace simply nods his head.

“As you both might have noticed,” Lydia continues briskly. “Over the last forty-eight hours, there has been a surge of rift activity around the city for no reason we know of yet. The shadowhunters are working to close the smaller ones and suppress the demons while we’ve been working to close the larger rifts. Unfortunately, Victor, myself, and any other warlocks powerful enough to close major rifts have all pushed ourselves to our limits already and two new ones have opened up which are vastly larger than any of the ones we’ve dealt with before now. If you don’t mind, we could use both yours and Alec’s help sealing those rifts.”

“Oh Lyds, of course we’ll help! What do you think we’ve been doing this entire time anyways?” Isabelle says with a warm and far more genuine smile directed at the blonde woman. “But if you hadn’t noticed by now, Alec’s already working on the one in Central park.” She points to the monitors behind them and they all turn to look at the one showing all the rifts. The Central Park one isn’t growing anymore, it is, in fact, shrinking by very slow increments.

“Oh wonderful,” Lydia says, suddenly breathing a sigh of relief.

“We should get back Iz. Alec can’t handle demons and closing a rift at the same time, no matter how powerful he might be,” Jace says, expression furrowed in a worried frown.

“We should,” Isabelle says nodding seriously. “But where’s this other rift you’re talking about Lyds? The Central Park one was too big to be ignored; we didn’t know there was another one.”

Lydia turns to look at the monitors and nods at the dot in question. “It’s by the harbour, by the Jade Wolf.”

“Oh shit. We’ll need to split up,” Jace says studying the monitors. “Iz, head back to Central and give backup to Alec. I’ll go to the harbor and deal with the one there.” Without looking for further confirmation, Jace starts motioning to create a portal.

“Hang on, Jace don’t be an idiot. You need back up too.” Isabelle glares at her brother.

The blonde rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he bites out shortly. The portal whirls into existence drawing an aggrieved squawk from Aldertree. The blonde just rolls his eyes again before stepping through and disappearing. It whirls shut and Isabelle huffs.

“Dramatic,” Magnus says which draws a laugh from Isabelle.

“Tell me about it,” she says. “Well, now both my brothers are in danger of getting eaten by demons. Mr. Fell?” Isabelle looks at Ragnor, her flirtatious demeanor replaced by a more formal manner. “If I could request a team of shadowhunters for some backup?”

“Already done. Let’s go you lazy layabouts,” Ragnor says, stepping forward.

“I resent that,” Magnus says in a cheerful tone as he moves to follow Ragnor. His freshly applied stamina rune and most recent cup of coffee are buzzing with frenetic energy under his skin and he’s raring to go despite maybe having an hour’s sleep over the last few days.

“I do too,” Raphael says falling in line behind Magnus. “We’ve been on almost permanent patrol duty for the past two days and you’ve been at the Institute for half of it, so who’s the lazy layabout?”

“Central Park or the harbor?” Catarina says as she falls in behind Magnus with Raphael, smacking Raphael on the shoulder as she does so. He scrunches his face back at the ebony skinned woman.

“Central Park,” Isabelle replies, hands moving to create a portal, eyebrow quirked in amusement at their banter. “I’ll go to the harbor. It’s nothing personal but Jace isn’t all that fond of shadowhunters.”

“And your other brother is his exact opposite is he?” Ragnor asks, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Isabelle laughs, a light tinkling thing. “Alec isn’t fond of anybody. But unlike Jace, he knows how to be polite.” The portal wooshes into existence and Magnus glances back to see Aldertree seething once again. He fails to hide his snort. “The question is whether he’ll be in the mood to be so.”

Ragnor sighs before stepping through the portal. Magnus grins flirtatiously at Isabelle as he moves past her and she grins back, offering him a wink before he steps into the portal.

Magnus isn’t sure what to expect when he gets out the other end of the portal. The Lightwood siblings are a well-known trio within the Shadow World but everything Magnus has ever heard about them has been mostly hearsay or gossip. He’s never specifically looked up their profiles in the Clave databases but the things he does know to be true are that Isabelle and Alec, full name Alexander, are twins, an absolute rarity within the warlock race. Very early on in life, they added Jace to their family unit-- the circumstances under which that occurred Magnus has heard at least twenty versions of-- and Jace ended up adopting their surname, also for another twenty wildly different reasons. They’ve all stuck together ever since, living a comparatively nomadic lifestyle for warlocks, moving cities almost every decade or two.

Magnus might not know much about the Lightwoods, but judging from Isabelle and Jace, he’s sort of expecting Alec to be preternaturally good looking as well. The back end of him looks good as far as Magnus can tell when he gets his bearings. There’s a set of strong shoulders and a rather attractive ass all kitted out very nicely in a well tailored suit and stylish shoes.

The Lightwoods are extremely fashionable people apparently, which Magnus can appreciate. He takes a quick breath and his nostrils are instantly assaulted with the burnt sugar smell of warlock magic hanging thicker in the air than Magnus has ever smelt it before. It’s almost enough to completely overpower the familiar sulfur and brimstone scent that demons always bring with them.

He moves forward to stand beside Ragnor who’s already speaking with Alec, both standing just at the edge of an absolutely monumental rift. Magnus can hardly see the other side of Central park, it’s so vast. It tunnels straight into the earth, lined by jagged rocky cliffs that glow a deep and ominous red.

“About time someone showed up,” Magnus hears Alec say. His voice is low and tight with strain. Magnus looks at the warlock finally and promptly forgets how to breathe. Ragnor says something in reply but Magnus doesn’t know what it is, too busy taking in the strong jaw and dark hair and striking hazel eyes narrowed in concentration. Isabelle and Jace, beautiful people as they are, have nothing on their brother who is completely and utterly ethereal in Magnus’ opinion.

He doesn’t realize his jaw has dropped open until Raphael roughly smacks him upside the head with a muttered, “Dios mio!”

“Magnus!” Catarina says quellingly. She’s already nocked an arrow and is aiming it up at something above their heads, but Magnus doesn’t know what, his gaze having already drifted back to Alec.

“Magnus! Get your head out of your ass and do your job!” Raphael hisses, smacking him again before drawing his seraph blade, the blade springing forth with a blue flare as he hurries past Catarina to face off against a wave of demons crawling up the side of the rift. Ragnor’s already headed off to cover Alec’s other side, leaving Magnus still standing there gaping like an utter fool.

Alec shifts his stance slightly, hands moving in esoteric patterns that Magnus doesn’t have even the slightest inkling of their function or meaning. What’s important is that the slight shift has caused Alec’s suit pants to bunch up around his thighs, outlining well-defined muscles that has Magnus’ mouth going dry and heart beating a mile a minute, mind conjuring a wonderfully vivid scenario involving those thighs wrapped around his waist.

It takes Alec suddenly flinging a fireball behind him with a barely audible curse before Magnus snaps out of his daze and remembers where he is, the demon that had been creeping up behind the warlock now so much dust and ash. Belatedly he realizes that if he doesn’t start doing his job now, the utterly beautiful man before him might not live long enough for Magnus to even say hello to.

With another shake of his head, Magnus draws his seraph blades where he has them sheathed across the small of his back and twirls them with a flourish before diving into the fray. The duel wield is flashy and hard to pull off, just the way Magnus likes it. When he’d chosen that particular fighting style, Raphael had rolled his eyes hard enough that Magnus had genuinely been afraid his eyes would fall out of his head.

He doesn’t hold back on the flash now especially since there’s such a lovely spectator nearby to impress. Soon though, thoughts of Alec fade to the back of his mind, his focus turning to thrusting, stabbing and parrying in a familiar dance he’s done a thousand times. It’s more than likely that Alec doesn’t even realize he’s there anyways focused as he is on closing the rift.

The ebb and flow of the battle never takes Magnus very far from Alec’s position. Ragnor ranges out a bit further than Magnus feels comfortable with though Catarina and Raphael have at least stuck nearby, conserving their efforts for the demons getting too close to the warlock. Endless waves of the things keep pouring from the rift and Magnus is sure Hell is emptying all of its guts into New York.

Suddenly, there’s a sound like a snick-hiss, a feeling like air being sucked out of a room, followed by an audible snap, and then an eerie, almost deafening silence. The demons in the close vicinity are gone just like that, Magnus thrusting his seraph blades through thin air. He blinks twice before spinning around. In the space where the rift used to be, Central park has returned. Magnus finds that they are standing in front of one of the park’s many fountains, a network of paved paths branching out in every direction with the fountain as their locus.

Alec staggers back a few steps from where he had stood, looking a little unsteady on his feet. Magnus steps forward instinctively, about to drop his seraph blades so he can run and catch Alec.

“Magnus! Behind you!” Catarina’s urgent voice calls out suddenly.

Magnus spins, the movement more instinct than thought. He has a split second to see the demon barreling down on him, one of the ones that had been just far enough away from the rift to not be sucked back to Hell when it closed, before he’s moving his blades into position. His left blade flashes up to parry the vicious swipe the demon aims for his head and then he’s slashing forward with his right blade. The demon disappears in a burst of flame.

Magnus has a second to feel cocky before he registers a burning pain on his right side. The pain is enough to make him drop his right seraph blade involuntarily.

“Ow,” he says looking down askance at the four gashes left behind where the demon apparently managed to rake its claws over his ribs. He can already feel the burning ratcheting up in intensity as the demon ichor works its way further into his wounds. He wobbles unsteadily, trying to keep his wits about him. This is just plain insulting. He’s one of the best shadowhunters out there. Magnus simply doesn’t _do_ injured.

“Magnus!” Catarina shouts again and there’s the sound of running feet. A pair of arms catches him just as he drops to his knees. He turns back, expecting to find Catarina or Raphael behind him but instead finds himself staring straight into the utter beauty that is Alec Lightwood’s face. He’s even more stunning up close, dark eyelashes long and sooty against pale cheeks chiseled from marble. He’s got a tiny furrow between his eyebrows as he studies the wound on Magnus’ side. Without much preamble, Alec is suddenly lifting the edge of Magnus’ shirt, clearly trying to get a better look at his wound, but Magnus’ mind flashes instantly to other, sexier things that involve shirts being lifted.

“Magnus, are you okay?” Catarina says, coming to crouch down at his other side. She’s got her stele out and concern in her brown eyes.

“There’s ichor in his wounds,” Alec says briskly. He looks up then, glancing at Catarina first before looking at Magnus. Magnus is gratified to see the warlock doubletake, eyes widening as Alec finally, finally notices him. His eyes skitter over Magnus’ face, a lop-sided smile slowly growing on his lips all the while. Magnus feels a smile growing on his own face in response, pain completely forgotten.

“Why hello there,” Magnus says unable to help the flirtatious tone in his voice. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Magnus Bane.”

“Alec. Alec Lightwood,” Alec replies still staring at Magnus, looking a little stunned. Magnus could have remained that way all day firmly ensconced in Alec’s warm embrace, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“I should-- uh-- I should-- I need to-- um-- I need to get the ichor out,” Alec stutters.

“By all means.” Magnus smiles.

“Uh, yeah.” Alec ducks his head, staring intently at Magnus’ side. Soothing blue magic begins pouring from his hand over Magnus’ wound and the burning pain that had been dancing in the background of his awareness fades away. From beside him, he hears Catarina snort softly. Magnus sends her a narrowed eyed look, and she just smiles innocently in response.

“Ichor’s gone,” Alec says softly after a few silent minutes. He looks up, straight into Magnus’ eyes again and Magnus, can’t help it, he all but beams at Alec. Alec’s face flushes red in response, and he looks away quickly.

“Couple of iratze’s and you should be right as rain,” Catarina says in an overly cheerful voice. She draws the rune a little harder than normal, and Magnus hisses as his wounds close up.

“Are we almost done here? We should head back to the Institute,” Ragnor says. He’s got his phone out and is poking at it with a deeply unhappy frown.

“Yup, good to go,” Catarina says. She smiles sweetly and prods Magnus sharply in the shoulder. “Come on, get up Magnus. Stop cuddling with Mr. Lightwood, we need him to get us back to the Institute.”

Alec lets go of Magnus as if burned and Magnus would have fallen to the ground if he hadn’t had his supreme shadowhunter reflexes at his disposable. As it is, he manages to balance precariously on the balls of his feet before straightening up so he can properly glare at Catarina.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Raphael mutters from where he’s inspecting his seraph blade.

“You all are dead to me,” Magnus says out loud. He turns to look at Alec, wondering if he can salvage anything but the warlock is focused on creating a portal. His face is flaming red though, so Magnus thinks there might be something there yet.

“Let’s go,” Ragnor says grumpily when the portal is complete. He leads the way through, Raphael and Catarina going through one after another. Magnus winks at Alec, which prompts another fetching blush, before stepping through backwards. Because of the way he took the portal, Magnus is the first to see Alec cringe instantly when he realizes where exactly his portal has put them.

“Useless.” Ragnor mutters darkly as he strides across the Ops Centre towards the main command table. A visibly chagrined Aldertree stands to the side glaring at Alec, looking like he’s attempting to fiddle with the Institute warding despite his purportedly low magic reserves. Lydia stands beside him, a long suffering look on her face, eating a sandwich.

Meanwhile, Alec is studiously avoiding Aldertree’s glare. “Oh look, my sister, come on Magnus,” Alec mutters. Much to Magnus’ bemusement and glee, Alec grabs Magnus’ hand seemingly without thought and begins tugging him in the opposite direction of Aldertree. Magnus doesn’t know why he’s being included in Alec’s escape, but he’s certainly not going to complain if the handsome warlock is going to keep holding his hand.

Alec takes him on a tour of the Ops Centre, making it clear he hadn’t actually seen his sister when he’d made a dash for it. They circle almost all the way back to where Aldertree is complaining about something passionately to an annoyed looking Lydia before they find Jace and Isabelle, Magnus earning many a confused glance from fellow shadowhunters as they go.

“Izzy, Jace,” Alec says as he draws to a stop in front of one of the Ops Centre workstations. The table has been cleared of the usual computer paraphernalia and is instead groaning under the weight of multiple stacks of leather bound tomes, spines covered in scripts and symbols Magnus only recognizes enough of to know that the tomes are compendiums of warlock spells.

Isabelle and Jace each have one open before them, clearly doing some research.

“Alec,” Isabelle says, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Magnus. Good to see everyone made it back in one piece.” She eyes their hands with amusement and Magnus grins at her.

“What? Did you guys go on a date in Central Park or something?” Jace asks, frowning at their hands.

“What? Why would you say that?” Alec frowns in confusion. Jace just nods at their linked hands. It takes a moment for the warlock to catch on to what Jace is talking about, but when he does, he lets go of Magnus’ hand as if burned, face flushing bright red.

“Oh Lilith, I am so sorry.” Alec’s hands dance through the air like he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

“I’m not,” Magnus says. “I had a nice time. I mean there were demons and a rift and a few other people there and I got injured, but I did get to learn just how fabulous you look in a suit. How about we do it again? But maybe just the two of us next time and less demons?”

Alec splutters, face flushing even harder than before. The warlock looks ready to combust, his gaze darting everywhere, a nervous hand running through his hair. “Erm, um, what?” Is all he can manage.

“Say yes Alec,” Isabelle says.

Magnus opens his mouth to add something, a pained gasp coming out instead when something gets roughly jabbed into his freshly healed wound.

“Fucking Raziel,” he says and glares down at the black shirt that has suddenly appeared at his side.

“New shirt for you,” Raphael deadpans.

“Thank you, but that hurt you asshole.” Magnus takes the proffered shirt still glaring. His wound might be healed, but it was still going to be sensitive for a while after and Raphael knew that.

“You’ll live.”

“This is a _regulation_ t-shirt,” Magnus says, lips curling in disgust when he unfolds it.

“Oh no, we won’t get to see Magnus’ biceps for the rest of the day, how will we survive?” Raphael mocks.

“I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand,” Magnus sniffs as he moves to take his shirt off, sending a scathing look at Raphael’s regulation outfit of black t-shirt, black jeans, and black combat boots. It’s the outfit the Clave provides for the shadowhunter recruits and any shadowhunters, really, who want them and it’s _boring_. Raphael chooses to use it because he’s cheap as hell and has no pride or dignity.

He stares mournfully at the tattered remains of his shirt when he’s finished taking it off; it had been one of his favorite shirts, purchased from a mundane sports store because say what you will about mundanes, they sure knew how to design good looking workout clothes, which were perfect for shadowhunting.

“Oh dear, did you get hurt?” Isabelle says sympathetically, but she’s got a coy smirk on her face for some reason that’s at odds with her tone. “Maybe I should take a look at it.”

Magnus blinks quizzically at her, pausing in the middle of putting on the new t-shirt. “Uh it’s okay, you don’t have to. Cat’s our medic and she took a look at it and so did Alec.”

“Oh did he? But I’m a pretty good healer if I do say so myself, I don’t think it’d hurt to have another opinion.” Magnus doesn’t have much of a choice after that; Isabelle is already on him poking at the injury with magic. “Lift up your arm, there’s a dear. A little higher, there we are,” Isabelle says, forcing Magnus to remove the t-shirt again if he doesn’t want to suffocate himself on the fabric. Her expression is a mockery of seriousness, her eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief.

Magnus complies, trying to figure out what’s going on. There’s a sound like a wounded animal and he glances up to find Alec staring at his chest, eyes round as saucers, lips parted just the slightest bit, blush back full force on his face. Magnus blinks twice. He looks at Isabelle who’s got an entirely too innocent look on her face. Then he flexes because he can’t help himself and Alec looks ready to combust.

“And there we are,” Isabelle says a suspiciously long amount of time later. She straightens up then and Magnus realizes belatedly that he’d had a perfect view of her cleavage but he hadn’t even bothered to look, too wrapped up in showing off for Alec. “Should be good as new.”

Magnus pokes at his side and is surprised to find that the delicate over-sensitive feeling of freshly iratze healed wounds is all gone. He won’t even have a scar to remember the injury by.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Magnus says poking at his side again. “Thanks, you really didn’t have to do that.” He slips his shirt on, noting regretfully that Alec has managed to tear his gaze away from Magnus’ assets and is busy staring blindly at the ceiling.

“Oh but it was so much fun,” Isabelle says glancing at her brother. “I couldn’t miss out on it.”

Magnus realizes that anyone looking just then would think Isabelle was flirting with him something fierce when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Something about that makes Magnus desperately hope they can be good friends if not amazing acquaintances.

“Found anything?” Lydia suddenly joins them, a desultory Aldertree wandering along in her wake. He looks pale and exhausted, a feat considering the man’s dark skin tone. He also looks supremely pissed off, glaring heavily at the Lightwoods as if they are the root of all the problems in his life.

“Nothing yet,” Jace says, ignoring the burning look Aldertree is giving him. He twists his right wrist, blonde eyebrows furrowing, and a slim tome suddenly materializes in his hands in a puff of blue magic. “Which isn’t all that surprising because Alec’s done nothing with his life but collect books and there is about a Mount Everest sized pile of shit to sift through.”

“Hey!” Alec says, affronted.

“Normally, I’d join you in ribbing Alec,” Isabelle says returning to her seat at the table. “But his habit of buying anything that vaguely resembles a book he might not have already could very well be what saves our collective behinds from this demonic incursion.”

“I do _not_ buy everything that vaguely resembles a book, Izzy,” Alec says. He’s got an adorable frown creasing his face.

“Should we really be using our magic to grab books?” Lydia interrupts, frowning at Jace. “I think we should be trying to conserve our power as much as possible. We never know when the next major rift will be. If you need to head home to access the books there then go ahead, I’ll call you if we need you.”

“Normally I’d agree with you,” Jace says. “But Alec’s books are not at the loft.”

Lydia frowns. Magnus notices that Alec has started flushing a dull shade of red though his eyes are narrowed warningly at Jace.

“Where are Alec’s books?” Lydia asks glancing at the warlock in question.

“Alec’s books...” Jace says pausing dramatically to lick a finger with great magnitude. “Are in Antarctica,” he says as he flips a page of the book he's looking at. He looks up finally, staring seriously at Lydia who huffs a short disbelieving laugh. When Jace doesn’t flinch, her eyes round out and she glances quickly at the flat expression on Alec’s face before looking back at Jace.

“Oh you’re serious.” She looks at Alec again. “Alec, why are your books in Antarctica?”

“Because Alec doesn’t think preservation charms preserve the books well enough,” Isabelle says with an amused look.

Alec glares at his sister. “Some of those books are the only copy of its kind left in the world and hundreds of years old okay? I own those books and it’s my responsibility to make sure they last as long as possible.”

“Oh and things last longer in the cold!” Magnus says as understanding strikes. “That’s why they’re in Antarctica. Kind of makes sense. Huh.”

“ _Thank you_!” Alec says, expression brightening. “Finally, someone gets it!”

“Oh Lilith, please don’t encourage him,” Jace says with a grimace.

“Well, it does make sense,” Lydia says cautiously. “But…”

“It’s a tad excessive?” Isabelle says.

“Whatever,” Alec mutters, expression going annoyed again. “Regardless of your opinions, my books are still not at the apartment. So whether we’re here or at home, we’ll still need magic to grab what we need. We may as well stay here to pool resources and so we’re nearby for the next major rift.”

“You’re right,” Lydia nods. “Let’s just get researching then. Hey Victor.” She turns to Aldertree who has returned to attempting to fiddle with his wards. Aldertree freezes when her gaze falls on him and for a moment, it’s a tableau of a toddler caught with their hand in the cookie jar, a disapproving mother looming overhead. Magnus desperately wishes he could have taken a picture of Aldertree’s face. Lydia looks like she briefly considers lecturing Aldertree then shrugs with an expression that says she’s done with the world and says, “Go talk to Ragnor about coordinating more warlocks to work with shadowhunter patrols to deal with the rifts and demons.”

Ragnor, who had just been approaching the group, swerves on his heel and stomps back in the direction he came from. Aldertree opens his mouth to protest but Lydia simply glares at him and the other warlock leaves with an affronted huff. Once the High Warlock of Uselessness leaves, the tension at the worktable drops like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Oh, you know what? I just thought of something,” Alec says suddenly snapping his fingers, earlier affront forgotten. He twists his wrist in the same motion that Jace had done earlier, a massive tome suddenly appearing in his hands. He’s flicking through it rapidly a second later, even as he goes to take a seat at the now very crowded worktable in between Lydia and Isabelle.

“Let’s go,” Raphael says.

“But I--” Magnus gestures at the gathered warlocks, Alec in specific, whose pretty eyes are far too focused on the dusty tome before him.

“Let’s _go_ ,” Raphael says again and glares at him, a thousand-word essay on how stupid Magnus is being plus a promise of untold depths of pain if Magnus doesn’t listen to him in his gaze.

Magnus sighs-- Raphael is right, Magnus doesn’t know the first thing about warlocking, how helpful can he be to the people who do know about it?-- and follows his friend, unable to stop himself glancing back once more at the worktable. Alec really is so very pretty.

 

***

 

Let this be a lesson, Magnus decides, in never listening to Raphael again. Who knows what could have happened if he hadn’t. Maybe he’d be making out in a closet with Alec right now.

No sooner had they left the table of researching warlocks then Ragnor had accosted them with orders to go back out in the field. Catarina had magically appeared to voice her protest that two days was long enough to go without proper sleep even if they were nephilim and badass senior operatives. Ragnor had countered with the fact that a patrol of newbies had just come in for a rest and he didn’t have the luxury to let so many shadowhunters take a break at the same time, so he’d told them to suck it up and out they’d been sent. Minus Ragnor who had conveniently needed to stay in Ops to cover for his second-in-command, Tessa Grey, who was sleeping the sleep of the dead in her room after nearly fainting from exhaustion an hour earlier. She should have taken an hour nap somewhere in the last forty-eight hours, Magnus had thought a little uncharitably, then she’d have been able to keep going according to Ragnor’s standards.

So it is, that Magnus spends the next six hours battling demons, helping seal rifts, and trying not to wince in disgust every time he catches a look at himself on a reflective surface. The regulation t-shirt is a shapeless travesty of baggy cotton hiding his alluring physique and Magnus will resent Raphael forever for forcing it on him, when Magnus’ extensive and very fashionable wardrobe was only two floors and one short elevator ride away.

An hour before sun down, they wander back to the Institute, covered in a fresh layer of dirt, sweat, and demon ichor, limbs aching with exhaustion. Magnus has a low level headache pounding the back of his skull and he genuinely thinks the tiled flooring of the Institute entrance hall looks like a wonderful place for a nap.

Ragnor accosts them while they trudge through the Ops Centre to check-in. He’s got the manic look of someone subsisting on too many stamina runes and coffee and Magnus feels a little sorry for him. Between the command centre and going out to cover shortages in the field, Ragnor is running on even less rest than anyone else in the Institute.

“My dearest and oldest friend. You know how much I value our friendship,” Ragnor says, a wide and over friendly grin on his face. It makes him look deranged and makes Magnus extremely suspicious since to Ragnor, smiling is one of the Seven Deadly sins.

“What do you want?” Magnus says with narrowed eyes. They’ve known each other for years, since they were children. Ragnor never talks to Magnus like this unless he’s asking him to do something truly detestable.

“What? Can’t I simply express my appreciation for a good friend?” Ragnor says deranged grin still in place.

“Okay, we’re going now,” Catarina says and Magnus watches, betrayed, as she and Raphael all but sprint out of the Ops Centre before Ragnor can rope them into whatever he wants Magnus to do.

“Hey medic! I thought you said _everyone_ needed to rest!” Magnus almost bellows after their retreating forms.

“Ragnor, let him have a nap!” Catarina sing-songs back. “Or else!” Except the parting threat is useless as she and Raphael are mere specks in the distance for all the use they are. Ragnor lets them go without a word, so Magnus figures it wouldn’t have mattered whether they had stayed or left. They’re still awful, awful people and Magnus vows never to call them friend ever again.

“Out with it,” Magnus says when the traitors are gone.

“I need you to do a little escort mission for me.” Ragnor taps the tips of his fingers together. It’s extremely evil overlord of him.

“Who?”

“A warlock,” Ragnor hedges.

For one brilliant, naive, hopeful moment Magnus wonders if it is Alec but judging by Ragnor’s steadily tapping fingers, which despite the evil overlord look is more a nervous tic, it’s probably going to be someone Magnus detests to his very core.

“You want me to do an escort mission for Victor Aldertree don’t you?” Magnus says putting one and one together and getting awful.

Ragnor just keeps smiling at him. Magnus can’t believe he’d ever felt sorry for him.

“Ragnor, come on! I’m covered in crap! I’m tired! I want a shower! Aldertree sucks!” He adds the last part in a hiss.

“I know!” Ragnor hisses back. “But this is _important_! It has the potential to end this endless cycle of demonic madness we’ve been stuck in! If it works, you’ll have all the time in the world to shower and sleep as much as you like afterwards!

“Okay, good, great. That sounds amazing! Wonderful! Why does it have to be _me_?”

“Victor asked for the best,” Ragnor says. “And you’re the best.”

This comment strokes the vain, prideful thing that is Magnus’ ego but he holds on grimly to his anger and exhaustion. “I’m exhausted, I’m less than the best right now!”

“You and every other shadowhunter here. Barely anyone has gotten a long enough break to truly recuperate.” Ragnor’s demeanor turns serious. “Look, I know you’re tired and Victor Aldertree is at the top of your Kill-It-With-Fire list but please Magnus, you’re the best one for this job right now. The ones coming off break are new recruits and you’ll be going to the Seelie realm with Victor. I can’t send the newbies in there in good conscience. Plus if Victor messes this up, I need someone there that can salvage the situation and you are the only one in the Institute that can hold your own in a conversation with the Queen. And she seems to like you for some reason.”

Magnus heaves a sigh. He hates Aldertree. He hates the Queen. And he _really_ hates Ragnor right now.

“You owe me. Big time. I’m talking days off big. Like even a week off,” Magnus says, rubbing his face. He freezes as something occurs to him. “Wait did you just say _newbies_ are coming off break?”

“Magnus--”

“Newbies were going to sleep when I left,” Magnus says dangerously.

“They’re like piddly little marshmallows without rest, Magnus!” Ragnor says an odd combination of apologetic annoyance on his face. “Plus they just arrived here a week ago and if they died right now, Alicante would have my behind. In about a year maybe I’d be safe, but not now.”

“We _train_ for these exact situations! You can’t coddle them or they’ll be marshmallows forever!”

“I’m breaking them in gently!” Ragnor protests. “Now get a move on! Aldertree is waiting and I don’t want to hear any more complaining out of you. You’re senior level and you’ve had time to get a tough and crispy outer layer, you can handle this!”

“Do I at least have time to eat _something_? Or am I just supposed to run on will-power and good looks?”

“It’s a wonder you’re not dead then,” Ragnor mutters then quickly adds, “You have five minutes,” when it looks like Magnus is considering going for his seraph blade. Huffing, Magnus sends a final glare at Ragnor and then books it for the kitchens.

After eating a hastily made ham sandwich -- in all honesty Magnus just found some bread, ham, and cheese and stuffed slices of each into his mouth having neither the time nor inclination to build a proper sandwich -- he returns to the Ops Centre.

Ragnor, Lydia, and Aldertree are waiting for him. Both warlocks look significantly more energized than the last time Magnus saw them so they must have gotten some rest the lucky assholes.

“Took you long enough,” Aldertree huffs and Magnus stares murder at him.

“Are you ready to go?” Lydia asks, looking apologetic.

“Hold on, tell me exactly what we’re going to the Seelie Court for?” Magnus asks, holding a hand up.

“We don’t have time for this,” Aldertree says, annoyed, and Magnus wants to rip his face off.

“I’m not going into the Seelie realm without a clear idea of what I’m doing there. So if you’d like to go alone then keep it a secret for all I care.”

Aldertree opens his mouth but luckily, Lydia beats him to the punch. “It’s fair of Magnus to ask,” Lydia says to Aldertree who just huffs again. She turns to speak to Magnus. “We’ve found a spell that could potentially fix our current situation. The problem is it requires a _lot_ of power. Every warlock in New York has been pushing themselves to the limit trying to keep the demons at bay and none of us have the power for this spell currently, even if we were to combine our efforts. There’s no time to wait for one of us to recharge enough to perform the spell, and any potions we could brew to boost magic will also take time we don’t have. The Seelies keep a potion on hand that can give one of us a temporary power boost of enough magnitude to cast the spell. That’s why we need you and Victor to go to the Seelie realm.”

“Well okay,” Magnus nods tiredly. “Can’t argue with that.”

“So can we go now?” Aldertree asks waspishly.

Magnus glares at him. “I need to get my runes first.” While he fishes his stele out of his thigh holster, Magnus glances around, gaze drawn to the worktable the warlocks had designated as their research station. It’s buried in a mountain of books now, waist high stacks piled on the floor surrounding it. Jace is sitting alone at the table, neither of his siblings in sight, looking to be on the verge of collapse, hand propping up a dangerously listing head.

“Couple more major rifts opened up while you guys were out,” Lydia says sympathetically. “Izzy and Alec are dealing with two now. We’ve been taking it in turns to address each one, but there are too many coming too fast.”

Magnus nods grimly as he applies fresh stamina and nourishment runes. He vaguely remembers some reports of major rifts but they hadn’t been dispatched to assist so Magnus hadn’t paid much attention to them.

“Okay, _now_ are we ready to go?” Aldertree complains. He barely waits for Magnus’ quick nod before rolling his eyes and spinning the portal into existence. Magnus has a sudden and vivid image of punching the warlock in the face. There would be a bloody nose and pitiful whimpers and possibly the Clave might get involved for breach of the Accords and Ragnor could lose his position as Institute Head but, Angel, would it feel so good. It’s with that thought that Magnus steps into the portal after Aldertree.

 

***

 

The visit to the Seelie Realm takes three long hours that turn out not to be nearly as horrible as Magnus thought they would be.

Magnus learns during those three hours that there is indeed a use for Victor Aldertree in this world and that use is apparently talking to the Seelies. He’s possessed of a silver tongue that he puts to good use skillfully navigating the verbal minefield that is negotiating with the Seelie Queen. By the end of the negotiations the Queen is near tears with laughter and good humor and she cheerfully parts with the shimmering power-up potion in exchange for information Aldertree has on the location of some warlocks the Queen has been looking for.

Magnus is equal parts awed and sickened. Awed at the easy rapport Aldertree seems to have with the Queen and sickened by the ease with which Aldertree sells out his fellow warlocks. There’s not much Magnus can do though. He doesn’t know the poor bastards who are probably going to be stranded in the middle of the Wandering Woods for the rest of their sorry eternity when the Queen finds them and the New York Institute needs the potion too much. Aldertree is still a giant dick though, and Magnus would happily punch him in the nose the first chance he gets.

“So?” Ragnor asks when they portal in. The Institute is still charged with the sort of sluggish energy that only comes during the later hours of an extended emergency, when everyone is tired enough to collapse where they stand but still moving to deal with the problem through sheer force of will, overly judicious applications of stamina runes, and twelve more cups of coffee than is necessarily good for their hearts.

“Got it!” Aldertree says, triumphantly waving the small vial about. He marches off with all the airs of a conquering general.

Magnus and Ragnor watch him leave.

“Did he actually manage it? By himself?” Ragnor’s tone is sceptical.

“All on his own like a big boy,” Magnus quips. “Yes, I know, I was shocked too," he adds at Ragnor’s genuinely surprised look. “Seems Aldertree isn’t entirely useless after all.”

Magnus doesn’t say anything for a moment, waiting patiently while Ragnor’s world realigns itself.

“Okay. Alright. Well this is excellent news. The rifts are still opening and demons are still coming through, so there’s no time like the present!” Ragnor claps his hands, mad gleam still in his eyes from too many stamina runes and not enough rest.

“I need you to go to your room and wake up the Lightwoods then bring them down to the courtyard for me. I think Lydia should just be about done with the casting circle.” Ragnor starts marching off in the direction Aldertree went and it takes a moment for Ragnor’s words to sink in.

“Wait, my room? Why do I have to wake up the Lightwoods in my _room_?” Magnus squawks, grabbing at Ragnor’s arm before he can get too far.

Ragnor blinks for a moment, nonplussed. “What? Oh yes, I let them borrow your room for a nap. When Isabelle and Alec got back they were just about ready to collapse and so was Jace, and none of them could have portalled if they tried, so I sent them up for a nap.”

For a moment, Magnus’ brain is broken. Alec Lightwood. In his bed. Without him. It is a travesty of such indescribable proportions that Magnus can only sputter in rage at the unjust universe he lives in.

“But _my_ room?” Magnus protests, voice cracking like an adolescent school boy.

“Well yes, of course,” Ragnor says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Magnus wants to strangle him. “Cat and Raph both went to have naps-- oh yes that reminds me, wake them up for me as well, I need competent personnel in case this all goes to shit-- and all the guest rooms are taken up by the new recruits and they certainly weren’t going to use my room so that left yours. Since you were going to be busy in the Seelie realm for a few hours I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Magnus stares at him and Ragnor stares back, a guileless expression on his face.

“You. Are a terrible person and a terrible friend,” Magnus says.

“Now, now Magnus,” Ragnor chides, finally giving up all pretext of innocence. “I didn’t think you’d mind having Alec Lightwood in your bed, given the mooning you’ve been doing all day. Plus they really did need a place to sleep.”

“I hate you. From the very depths of my soul do I hate you.”

Ragnor pats him on the shoulder, smirks, and says, “I know. Now hop to it, I need everyone in the courtyard pronto! And don’t forget yourself as well!” Then he’s marching off in the direction of the courtyard.

Magnus tries to set Ragnor on fire with his glare, but there’s a disappointing lack of combustion and he turns to head upstairs, disgruntled.

Once outside of his room, he dithers for a moment before heading to Catarina and Raphael’s rooms to wake them up first. Raphael, predictably, curses at him in Spanish and tosses the nearest object he can grab at him, which happens to be a tissue box so Magnus isn’t terribly worried. Catarina just groans theatrically into her pillow before dragging herself up. Her dark curly hair is a loose mess atop her head.

“You haven’t showered,” she says studying him critically as she absently starts wrestling her hair into some semblance of order. “You haven’t even slept yet have you?” Magnus shrugs helplessly.

“Ugh, Ragnor,” Catarina grumbles. “I’ll throw him out a window for you, how does that sound?”

“Lovely my dear,” Magnus says. “Except it might have been more helpful about three hours ago. Ragnor’s been coordinating with the warlocks on a possible solution to this crisis. He wants all of us to meet in the courtyard as soon as possible.” Catarina’s half-way back in his good books he decides. Raphael’s status is still up in the air and Ragnor can burn in a pit for all he cares.

“Well hopefully it works then,” Catarina says.

Magnus nods in agreement. “I’m going to take a shower and wake up warlocks Ragnor lent out my bed to, you guys head on down first.” He grimaces at the ichor splatters still decorating his entire body as he leaves her room. Magnus is sure someone could track him using the flakey trail he’s sure to have left behind him, like some sort of powdery, poisonous bread crumb trail.

“Wait, what?” Catarina says, but he’s gone before she can ask more questions.

He heads for his room where he pauses, feeling a little disgruntled at having to knock on his own door. Raphael emerges from his bedroom just as he knocks and gives Magnus a long judgemental stare full of questions about his mental state. Magnus flips him the bird.

There’s no answer forthcoming from within, even when he knocks a second and a third time so Magnus just takes a deep breath and opens his door halfway.

The room is predictably dark given the late hour in New York and the sleeping occupants. A shaft of light from the hallway falls across Magnus’ bed and the first thing he can make out is a tuft of dark hair poking out from under his duvet. A second longer observation reveals that it’s Alec, fast asleep, his face half-buried in one of Magnus’ pillows. An eye with a sweep of dark lashes across a pale cheek and a handsome jawline are still visible and Magnus feels a sudden and inexplicable desire to wake up next to that sight everyday for the rest of his life.

“Wha’ the fu--?” A voice says. It’s all the warning Magnus gets before a ball of magic is being flung at him. Magnus barely dodges to the side in time, dive rolling to his feet in front of his closet. In less than a second a multitude of things occur. The lights in his room get flipped on revealing Isabelle and Alec springing up from Magnus’ double bed, magic flaring to life in their hands. On the floor, Jace is already half-way up from where he was apparently camped out, preparing another ball of offensive magic. Raphael appears in his bedroom door, seraph blade drawn, Catarina following less than a moment later, bow and arrow nocked and drawn.

To Magnus’ great shame the thing that catches his attention the most aren’t the three startled warlocks looking ready to attack but the very shirtless state Alec is in, clad only in a pair of loose, black sweatpants. Alec isn’t as built as Magnus -- in fairness to him Magnus pretty much works out for a living-- but he’s still got a set of lithe, defined muscles shifting under flawless pale skin that is just begging to be tasted.

He’s got enough wherewithal to stay aware of his surroundings which is why he’s able to duck the second ball of magic Jace tosses at his head.

“Jace!” Alec bellows in an authoritative tone of voice. Magnus feels troublingly aroused in response.

The blonde warlock, seemingly caught in some sort of delusion or haze, draws his hand back for a third attack. Suddenly, thick cords of red lash out and bind Jace’s wrists together, engulfing both his hands entirely so the magic gathering on his palms fizzles out.

“Jace, snap out of it!” Alec bellows again, his hands outstretched. There’s some sort of battle of wills, magic growing thick in the air as Jace struggles under the bindings and Alec fights to keep them in place. Jace gasps, eyes suddenly clearing where they had been hazy and sags backwards, back hitting Magnus’ bathroom door. Alec follows suit less than a second later, leaning heavily on the pillows at his back.

“Fuck man, I did _not_ have the magic to spare for that!” Alec says. His skin tone, already pale, is almost translucent with exhaustion, dark rings prominent under his eyes. It doesn’t seem like he got much sleep but Magnus thinks he still looks absolutely gorgeous. Suddenly, he’s feeling self-conscious about his own likely messy appearance right now. He’s sure his eyeliner is smudged to hell and his hair is probably limp, and soaked with demon ichor not to mention, he probably smells like day-- two day?-- old sweat.

“Shit, neither did I,” Jace says looking just as tired. “Sorry bro.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Alec says. “Apologize to Magnus. It’s his head you just tried to remove.”

Jace stares mutinously at Alec before shifting a narrow eyed look at Magnus.

“Really?” Magnus says after a moment of silence.

“Jace!” Alec growls warningly.

“Sorry,” Jace grits out, looking like he’s in physical pain just saying the word. Then he adds scathingly, “But really what did you expect just bursting into a room of sleeping warlocks like that? You should have knocked first!”

“He did,” Raphael says dryly from the doorway as he sheaths his seraph blade. Behind him Catarina is putting her bow and arrow away. “Three times in fact, but no one answered so of course he went in.”

“Oh,” Jace says, deflating. “Um, sorry then,” he says, sounding far more genuine this time.

“Ugh whatever,” Magnus says, shrugging. He’s suddenly feeling far too tired and grimy to care. His stamina rune must be wearing off. “Ragnor sent me to wake you all up and bring you to the courtyard.”

“I’m going to guess you and Aldertree managed to get the potion from the Seelie Queen then?” Isabelle says. She’s dressed in a baggy t-shirt and worn sweatpants, a complete opposite to her high-fashion outfit from earlier.

“Yup. In a twist that I did not expect, Aldertree managed it _all_ by himself. He’s scarily in tune with the Seelie Queen.” He turns around then, opening his closet door and digging around to gather up a change of clothes.

“Will wonders never cease,” Alec says drily.

“Go get cleaned up Magnus,” Catarina’s disembodied voice says. “Raph and I will take the Lightwoods down to the courtyard. Knowing Ragnor, he probably wanted us down there about ten minutes ago.”

“Pfft, whatever,” Magnus says dramatically as he emerges from the closet with a new set of clothes.

Raphael rolls his eyes at Magnus and leaves the room, while Catarina chuckles. “Don’t take three hours to shower just to spite him Magnus.”

“Cat, I would _never_ ,” Magnus gasps. “Such a waste of water. No, I’d soak in a bathtub for an hour and then sleep for the other two. Much better allocation of my time.” He then sweeps his way towards Jace where he is still using the bathroom door as a backrest and looks to be returning back to sleep despite all the noise, making sure to skirt Alec by a wide margin so there’s no way the handsome warlock has any chance of even catching a whiff of him in case he really does stink.

Magnus doesn’t care about Jace’s opinion though so he looms over the blonde and prods him with the toe of his boot. “Get up blondie, that’s my bathroom door you’re blocking.”

Jace snaps out of his stupor with a start and somehow manages to scramble with unexplainable grace out of the way.

“Wait, is this your room?” Isabelle says, tone filled with unwarranted amusement.

Magnus pauses, his hand on the door knob. “Yes,” he says slowly. “Ragnor lent it out to you without asking me because he is a presumptuous bastard like that. Why?”

Isabelle doesn’t say anything, just grins and looks across the bed at Alec, glancing at Jace for a moment before looking back at Alec again and giggling. Magnus looks at Alec to find that he is blinking extremely slowly, gazing into the far distance like he’s trying to work something out.

Magnus figures it out at the same time as Alec, judging by the sudden flush working its way up his neck and cheeks and the rounding of his lovely hazel eyes. _How_ could he have forgotten about that little fact? Magnus hadn’t even had the opportunity to fantasize about getting Alec into his bed yet and the warlock had already ended up in it and not even in the right way. He is never going to forgive Ragnor.

“Right well,” Magnus says and then escapes into his bathroom because half the things he wants to say right now are inappropriate innuendos and the other half are waxing lyrical about Alec’s wonderful hazel eyes.

In the bathroom, Magnus takes a moment to centre himself. When he glances in the mirror he cringes. He _was_ right, he looks a complete mess. His eye liner is smudged all to hell, his hair so covered in ichor that the bright blue streaks he’d put in last week are almost completely obscured, and his shirt is disturbingly stiff in some spots. He can’t _believe_ he let Alec see him looking like such a mess.

As if to try to make up for it, he spends almost double the time he usually does drawing on his eyeliner and fussing with his hair after he’s finished showering, trying to make sure everything is perfect. When he’s done, he dresses himself quickly and tosses the horrible t-shirt into the wastebasket where Raphael is sure to see it the next time he uses their shared bathroom.

The room is empty when he exits the bathroom, bed perfectly made up, no evidence of anyone having slept there recently. Scorch marks now decorate his wall and closet door from Jace’s attacks, the sight of them making him huff in annoyance. He takes his stele out and redraws his stamina and nourishment runes before leaving his room, the energy zinging through his exhausted limbs making him feel simultaneously like he could run a hundred miles straight and also drop dead on the spot to sleep for a hundred hours.

In the courtyard, Magnus arrives to find Ragnor, Raphael, and Catarina huddled together off to the side, each devouring a huge sandwich while watching Aldertree and Lydia argue over something. Alec, dressed again in the suit Magnus had first seen him in, is stuck in between them, a gigantic tome clutched in his arms, looking extremely annoyed. He looks up when Magnus arrives and much to Magnus’ satisfaction, Alec’s eyes widen subtly when he sees him. Magnus preens just a little, sending a wink at Alec which makes the warlock flush, before going to stand beside his friends.

Catarina hands him a sandwich of his own. Catarina, he decides, is now his new best friend. Ragnor who?

In the centre of the courtyard, the paved stones are covered in an elaborate design of interlocking circles and symbols set within one all encompassing circle. Isabelle and Jace are hovering over it, a large piece of parchment spread out between the two of them. They appear to be double checking the drawings on the floor.

“Lydia, I’m very certain we should be waiting for daybreak for this spell. The line here says so, ‘On rise of the Morning Star--’ ”

“Victor, we’ve already discussed this. The Chthonic phrasing makes it seem like it’s referring to sunrise but there is another morning star in this universe and the next set of lines makes it very clear it’s referring to Lucifer!” Lydia argues back, tone exasperated. Her hands are covered in chalk dust and her normally neatly styled blonde hair is coming out of its bun in wisps and strands. She looks a little wild eyed and exhausted.

“Lyds is right,” Alec says. “And I’m sure Isabelle and Jace would agree. This part of the spell descriptor isn’t talking about casting parameters, it’s referring to possible scenarios for usage, which is what got our attention in the first place.”

“But…” Aldertree trails off, looking distinctly confused. “It’s the opening line of the descriptor. That’s usually where they put the casting parameters.”

There’s a long drawn out silence as Lydia and Alec share looks of patent disbelief. Aldertree doesn’t appear to notice, too engrossed in frowning down at the text again.

“It looks great Lyds,” Isabelle says, coming to stand beside them, Jace just behind her. “None of us could have done it better ourselves.”

“Thank you Izzy. But you two are sure? Everything is right? The calculations are correct? We literally only have one shot right now, we need to get this right.” Lydia looks urgently at all the warlocks present, blue eyes wide and slightly bloodshot.

“It’s perfect Lyds,” Jace says, in a reassuring tone. “Izzy, Alec, and I went over the calculations four times with you. And we triple checked the drawings just now. If something were wrong, one of us would have caught it.”

“Okay, good,” Lydia takes a deep breath, looking a tiny bit relieved but still mostly apprehensive. “Right, well let’s get on with it then. Victor!” She snaps the warlock’s name out.

“What? Uh right, yes, I suppose we should start,” Aldertree says, looking up from where he had still been studying the tome. He turns to face Alec squarely, Alec mirroring his position while handing off the giant tome to Lydia. Isabelle, Jace, and Lydia step back to stand beside the shadowhunters in audience.

Aldertree holds out his hands and Alec takes them. Magnus had never thought he’d ever feel jealous of Victor Aldertree but he does now, watching Alec’s elegants hands being wrapped up in Aldertree’s grubby mitts. There’s a surge of energy through the air and Aldertree and Alec’s linked hands begin to glow as both men close their eyes.

Magnus asks in as casual a voice as he can muster, “What are they doing?”

Lydia is the one who replies. “Victor is temporarily transferring High Warlock status to Alec.”

Curiosity replaces the jealous swirl of his thoughts. “What? Really? That can happen? There’s reasons for it needing to happen?”

Lydia nods. “It’s rare, but situations do arise where a High Warlock needs to transfer the status temporarily, such as now. It’ll only last for a little while before the status will shift back to Victor.”

“Can it not?” Ragnor mutters out the side of his mouth. Catarina and Isabelle both choke trying not to laugh.

“So why does it need to be done now?” Magnus asks curiously.

Isabelle starts giggling behind her hand as Lydia tenses up suddenly. She looks warily at where Alec and Aldertree are still working on the transfer. An increasingly disgruntled look is growing on Alec’s face.

Lydia leans over to Magnus then, eyes still fixed on the pair, and in a low tone of voice says, “Please do _not_ say this outloud to Victor, but this spell we’re trying to use here… It’s beyond his current capabilities.”

Magnus feels his eyebrows shoot up as Lydia winces and Isabelle snorts trying to hold in her laughter. Jace chuckles softly beside her.

“And why is that the case?” Magnus asks.

Lydia huffs, bites her lip and looks extremely torn.

“Oh Lyds, don’t worry, _I’ll_ say it,” Isabelle says. She leans in closer to Magnus a huge smile stretching her ruby red lips. “The spell is extremely complicated and given Victor’s history of fucking the simplest of castings up, we weren’t even going to _let_ him try this one. Lydia told him that there was a dangerous component to the spell work that could put his life in jeopardy so he _generously_ let Alec do the casting for us.” Her smile is amused and sly. Magnus tries his best not to laugh though Ragnor isn’t so kind, letting out a loud guffaw.

“Victor, how long is this transfer supposed to take?” Alec’s ire filled voice suddenly cuts through their hushed conversation. Magnus looks up to see that Alec has let go of Aldertree’s hands and taken a step back. His face is contorted into an annoyed frown, and he’s glaring at Aldertree.

“Uh, not that long,” Aldertree answers, looking lost and uncertain. “Um, let me just try…” He steps forward reaching for Alec’s hands again.

The other warlock pulls them out of reach. In a falsely patient voice full of acid Alec says, “Uh, why don’t you review the spell and we can try again when you’ve refreshed your memory?”

“Good idea,” Aldertree says then bumbles around for a moment. Lydia produces a slim leather book with a swirl of magic Magnus doesn’t think she can spare and all but slams it into Aldertree’s chest when he faces her direction again. “Uh thank you Lydia, I’ll just go…” Aldertree heads over to the other side of the courtyard and starts flipping through the pages, hunting for the spell he needs.

Alec, meanwhile, heads over to them, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “At this rate all the shadowhunters are going to be dead from exhaustion and we’ll all be demon kibble before Victor figures out his head from his ass,” Alec says acerbically.

“This is extremely good news,” Ragnor says. “I am delighted to hear it, why did you vote him High Warlock again?”

“I didn’t vote for him,” Jace says with a shrug.

“Neither did Izzy or I,” Alec says.

“I transferred in from Lisbon to help out at his request,” Lydia says with an expression that says she wholly regrets that choice.

“Wait a second,” Magnus says still curious. “If Alec is casting the spell, what is it about the spell that needs him to have High Warlock status?”

It’s Alec that replies and Magnus almost doesn’t hear his answer, dazzled by the focused intensity of his hazel gaze. “The spell we’re using needs a pre-defined boundary to work within. Since this situation is affecting the entire city of New York, using the warding around New York as the boundary lines for the spell makes the most sense.”

“Except only the High Warlock has access to the city warding,” Isabelle says, taking over. “And since we’re not letting Victor anywhere near this spell, the status transfer needs to be done.”

“Except, he’s struggling to get that spell done apparently,” Ragnor points out, expression flat and unimpressed.

“Yeah,” Alec says, face twisting into a pained grimace. “What’s new?”

“Oh good, we’re all going to die,” Raphael says in his custom monotone.

“Well at least it’ll be on a full stomach,” Catarina says brightly.

“Oh Cat, ever looking for the silver lining,” Magnus says smiling cheekily at her.

“Right, I think I’ve got it.” Aldertree hustles up to them then, handing Lydia the book as he arrives.

“Do we?” Alec says, tone cutting and full of doubt.

“I’m sure,” Aldertree says, glaring at Alec. Alec spends another moment eyeing Aldertree dubiously, before slowly getting into position. They face each other and initiate the most hostile hand hold Magnus has ever seen, and he’s witnessed some very heated grappling sessions, both men glaring daggers at each other. There is no jealousy this time, only a vague sympathy for Alec who has to befoul himself touching Aldertree.

To the relief of all, Aldertree manages to get the transfer right this time. There’s nothing visibly different about either man but clearly Alec can feel something different. His face moves through a large range of expressions in a matter of seconds, going from vague confusion to outright alarm and disgust.

“Well shall we get to it?” Aldertree says expectantly, eyebrows high on his face.

“Yeah, just let me get the potion and stuff from Lyds,” Alec mutters, distracted.

“How long does my High Warlock status last for?” Alec says lowly in an oddly urgent tone when he reaches Lydia.

“Uh, about an hour or two. Why?”

“How long will this potion last?” He says instead, looking at the small vial Lydia is holding out to him.

“Uh, all my research says it’s about ten minutes at most. Why? Alec what’s going on?”

“The city wards are a mess!” Alec hisses as he leans closer to take the potion and the tome. “They’re awful! It might be one of the reasons we’re all suffering so _horribly_ right now! I’m going to do what I can to fix them. Hopefully I’ll have enough after the spell.”

With that he spins on his heel and heads back towards Aldertree who’s eyeing him suspiciously.

“Ready to go,” Alec says tightly.

From beside him, Magnus sees Lydia slapping her forehead with her palm.

“Of course they’re terrible, why in Lillith’s name did I ever think otherwise?” she mutters to herself.

Alec situates himself at the centre of the circle then. He closes his eyes, frowning while he takes a centering breath. There’s a shimmer in the air behind Alec and then Magnus stares dumb founded as a pair of enormous black wings manifest themselves just below his shoulder blades

It’s Alec’s warlock mark.

“Well that’s impressive,” Ragnor says. “I’d have voted _him_ for High Warlock.” There’s an affronted squawk from a bit further down the line.

Magnus, meanwhile, has lost all his mental faculties and is merely trying to remember how to _breath_.

Alec flicks the tome open and then simply lets it go. It hovers demurely in the air before him, bobbing gently on some invisible current of magic. Alec uncaps the vial then, takes another deep breath and downs the shimmering purple concoction.

For a moment, there’s nothing and then suddenly Alec’s eyes go wide and his straightens abruptly, wings flaring dramatically behind him.

“Holy shit!” He says and stares at his hands where sparks of magic have suddenly started dancing from his fingertips in erratic blue arcs. Magnus isn’t a warlock but he can definitely feel the power suddenly pouring off of Alec.

“This feels _amazing_ ,” Alec says in awe, a wide and scarily deranged smile suddenly stretching his lips. The sparks are now covering his entire body, dancing up and down his limbs and outlining the feathers of his wings in blue energy. He looks like some sort of avenging angel and Magnus wants to weep at the beauty of it.

“Alec, the spell! _Now_!” Isabelle snaps urgently.

It takes a few precious seconds for Alec to come back to himself. “Uh, right,” he says with a shake of his head. He focuses on the tome floating before him and starts the incantation, wings flared out in a stiff straight line on his back.

Alec casts for nearly two minutes, hands moving in intricate patterns, words in a language Magnus has never heard before flowing smoothly from his lips. Different parts of the casting circle light up in response to different points of the incantation. Alec is wreathed in power, the air literally vibrating with it. Magnus can smell the familiar burnt sugar smell of warlock magic mixed in with a light floral scent that’s probably from the Seelie potion.

At the culmination of the spell the entire circle lights up with a searing white light. Alec makes a final motion, bringing both his hands together in a swift downward sweep and what Magnus can only describe as a magical explosion suddenly punches through the air as an ever growing dome that expands upwards and outwards from the Institute until it disappears into the night. Magnus feels the breath getting slammed out of him as the shockwave passes through him, causing him and everyone else to stagger back a step.

They wait for a long moment, Ragnor frowning at the night sky before he slowly takes his cell phone out and dials a number. “Blackwell,” he says calmly after a few rings. “I’m sure you noticed, but the spell’s been cast. Tell me what’s happening on the tactical displays.” There’s a short moment where Ragnor listens to her response and everyone in the courtyard waits with bated breath.

“Excellent! Good to hear. Send out all available shadowhunters to clean up the remaining demons. I’ll be along shortly.” He ends the call, looking triumphantly about the courtyard. “All rifts are closed, good work!”

“Oh thank goodness,” Lydia says with a relieved breath.

“Awesome,” Alec mutters and then his eyes are closing and his hands are moving again. The movements he’s making are different, but Magnus vaguely recognizes them from the times Clary came to do ward maintenance at the Institute in the past.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Aldertree squawks at Alec and Lydia is suddenly in motion. She scoops up the tome from where it’s still hovering in the air and sweeps Aldertree up with a vice-like grip on his arm.

“Oh I’m not sure what he’s doing,” Lydia says with an airy, dismissive tone. “I read those potions are a power trip so he’s probably seeing if he can ward the entire world or figuring out whether he can portal to the moon or something. Don’t worry too much about him. He’ll crash in a few minutes. What we _should_ be doing is double checking that the rifts are staying closed.” Lydia’s voice disappears as she drags a protesting Aldertree through the courtyard entrance and back inside the Institute.

“What _is_ he doing?” Catarina says, staring at Alec curiously. The warlock’s wings are flexing slowly behind him with each flourish Alec is making, a contrast to the earlier casting when they hadn’t seemed to move at all.

“I think he’s trying to fix the city wards,” Magnus says a little vaguely, completely mesmerized by the sight. “They’re a mess, apparently.”

“Not a surprise,” Jace says with a snort.

“Can he fix the Institute warding as well?” Ragnor asks musingly. “They’re clearly not working very well since you three have been portalling in and out with nary a scratch on your face. I thought only Aldertree was supposed to be able to portal through his own wards.”

Isabelle laughs. “His warding is too easy to get around. And I wouldn’t get your hopes up Mr. Fell. I don’t think the potion will last for much longer. If he’s trying to fix the city wards and if they’re as bad as the Institute wards are, then Alec has his work cut out for him. I doubt he’s going to be able to get to even half of the warding covering New York, nevermind the Institute.”

“Bugger,” Ragnor says, frowning. “That’s a disappointment. No use in worrying then. Alright, come on you lazy sods, let’s get going! There’s clean up to be done!” Ragnor pivots efficiently on the balls of his feet and marches out of the courtyard.

Magnus sputters half a second too late, having been too distracted staring at a breathtaking Alec. “I haven’t even slept yet!”

Raphael heaves a put upon sigh. “Dios, you know he’ll care about _this_ much,” he holds up his hand, thumb and pointer finger pressed tightly together, “when he’s like that. Might as well get going.” He turns to follow Ragnor out of the courtyard.

“I’ll talk to him,” Catarina says, rolling her eyes. “Angel knows I’ve reminded him enough about it.”

“Cat, it’s fine,” Magnus says half-heartedly. The thought of seeing Catarina lecture Ragnor again is too entertaining a possibility to ignore though.

“Oh no, he could stand to let some of us have a break now that the rifts are gone.” Catarina grins at Magnus. “Don’t worry, I’ll find somewhere high up and with lots of windows to have the conversation.” She pats him companionably on the shoulder before she’s leaving the courtyard as well.

Magnus chuckles and moves to follow her. Suddenly, there’s a shout. Magnus spins around just in time to see Alec go limp as a rag doll.

He can’t help it, he’s shouting, “Alec!” and running to catch the warlock’s falling body before he knows what he’s doing. Two streaks of red beat him to it, thick cords of magic that catch Alec around his torso.

“Lower him, lower him,” Isabelle says urgently, hand outstretched and sweat already beginning to bead on her brow. Jace doesn’t look much better, face pale and teeth gritted in determination as he works with his sister to lower their brother carefully to the ground.

Magnus supports Alec gently under the shoulders, helping lower him the rest of the way down to ease the strain on the siblings. He glances over Alec, eyes flitting all over his body, trying to determine what is wrong and if he is okay. He doesn’t know exactly what to look for so he feels a little useless.

“Don’t worry Magnus,” Isabelle says as she all but drags herself over to them. “It’s just magical exhaustion. He just needs rest.” She kneels down besides one of Alec’s wings and looks him over herself anyways, fingers absently straightening out some of the ebony feathers that had gone askew during his fall. Magnus has the sudden and burning desire to stroke Alec’s wings as well and has to cross his arms tightly over his chest to stop his twitching fingers from moving. He doesn’t know Alec that well, that would be _creepy_.

“So do we,” Jace says with a self-deprecating laugh, all but collapsing on the ground.

“Yeah, but I don’t think either of us should be opening portals back to the loft right now,” Isabelle replies. “We’re going to have to take a cab back.”

“What?” Jace laughs. “With Alec’s wings out like that? The mundanes would all faint at the sight of him.”

“Oh Lillith,” Isabelle says. “I’m not dragging Alec’s heavy ass through New York on foot.”

“No we won’t because that would end up being the _exact_ same situation as the cab anyways,” Jace says sarcastically. Isabelle favors him with a heavy glare.

“You could borrow my room again,” Magnus blurts out before he can stop himself.

Both siblings blink at him. While they have a silent conversation over his shoulders, Magnus feels oddly uncomfortable, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing except it wasn’t actually all that bad so his only punishment is going to be a disapproving frown.

“If it’s okay with you then, we’ll take you up on that,” Isabelle says carefully.

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” Magnus says, trying not to sound too strained. “Anyways, Ragnor is a slave driver. I’ll probably be gone for hours and I wouldn’t be using my room anyways.”

“Well alright then, let’s go,” Jace says, moving to push himself up. “Help me lift him up.” Jace crouches done beside his brother then pauses. He looks up at Magnus. “Oh and by the way, Alec weighs like a ton of bricks with his wings out. Just thought you should know.”

With Jace being weak as a newborn kitten and not much help at all, Magnus ends up having to activate a strength rune just to be able to lift Alec off the courtyard floor. Jace’s ton-of-bricks description isn’t all that far from the truth. Alec doesn’t even twitch through Magnus and Jace’s first two failed attempts at lifting him.

“Where the hell does he put it all?” Magnus mutters as he and Jace struggle to maneuver the unconscious warlock through the courtyard doors without damaging any delicate wings. It’s debatable whether it’s Alec’s massive black wings or Isabelle nearly killing herself with laughter at Magnus’ comment that draws more attention as they move through the Ops Centre, shadowhunters staring at them from all sides.

On the ride up in the elevator, Magnus has the opportunity to get a great deep lungful of Alec’s hair when he turns his head the wrong way. His nose is assaulted by the incredibly pleasant scent of male musk, dusty books, and burnt sugar overlaid with the faintest hint of vanilla.

Magnus tries to resist, he really does, but he ends up stealing three more surreptitious inhales of Alec’s hair, before they make it to his room. Isabelle is shooting him an oddly knowing look when they go to deposit Alec face down on the bed, and Magnus tries to look as innocent as possible. He steps back and lets the siblings take over, watching as they gently straighten out their brother’s wings and his other limbs, remove his shoes and socks and add a pillow for his cheek to rest against.

He’s frozen in place by a sudden and vivid image of him crawling into bed beside Alec, sliding right under one of his wings and falling asleep curled up beside him. In the morning, he’d wake up to sleepy hazel eyes, ruffled black hair, and adorable lop-sided smiles.

“Yup, it looks like you guys have things handled here, I’ll just head out now, got demons to slay and all that,” Magnus says and all but flees his own room.

 

***

 

It’s a full week before the demon activity dies back down to normal levels. If Ragnor had had his way, the demons would have been cleaned up in a matter of three days but Catarina had managed to prod, read: kick, some sense into him, and they had all been graciously allowed to work in shifts and have breaks to rest. A wise move, for there would have been all out mutiny, otherwise, and Magnus is sure Raphael and Catarina would have been helming it.

All week, Magnus feels like he’s barely been hanging on to his sanity, and the resumption of normal levels of demonic activity has him feeling even more unhinged. With less patrols to attend to and less demons to fight, Magnus has more time to spend inside his own head and it’s a terrifying place to be right now, full of _feelings_ and _thoughts_ Magnus doesn’t know what to do with.

So he deals with it wisely and maturely and goes drinking and dancing. Every night. For six nights in a row.

By the time the seventh day rolls around Magnus’ head is pounding from a constant succession of hangovers, too little sleep, and stamina rune overuse, but now at least his mind is too tired to think of anything else but how shitty and tired he feels. The way there was rough but Magnus made it happen.

In a bid to maintain some facade of normalcy and to stave off the increasingly concerned looks Catarina keeps throwing his way, Magnus makes the wise decision to go on a ten-mile run even though he can barely see straight and after-images dot his vision if he turns a little too quickly.

It takes him twice as long to run his route than it normally does and he’s all but crawling by the time he gets back to the Institute. He doesn’t make it further than the top of the steps before he collapses beside the front doors and decides it’s a good a place as any to take a nap.

Ragnor strolls out ten minutes later, eating a sandwich, and spends a few minutes contemplating the sad lump of clothing and flesh that is Magnus.

“Have you come to mock me?” Magnus says when the silence stretches for long enough. He’s proud he’s even still conscious right now let alone able to talk.

“That would be the done thing to do,” Ragnor says.

“Then go ahead, knock yourself out.” Magnus wiggles his fingers weakly against the stone of the steps, the best approximation of a careless hand wave he can manage at the moment.

“Oh, but that would be too easy,” Ragnor says. “You’re so pathetic right now, it wouldn’t be any fun.”

“You are a saint among men Ragnor,” Magnus says dryly.

“I do try.” Ragnor finishes his sandwich then and takes a seat beside Magnus’ prone body.

They sit-- or lay in Magnus’ case-- in silence for a few moments before Ragnor sighs and says, “Okay I’m not doing it this way. Get up.”

Magnus remains stubbornly where he is.

“Oh Angel. Alright you asked for it,” Ragnor mutters. That’s all the warning he gets before Ragnor starts aggressively pawing at his clothes.

Magnus finds some energy then, to put up a fight. They wrestle for a few seconds, Ragnor scrabbling for the hem of his shirt and Magnus trying to fend him off with uncoordinated flails of his arms and legs. It’s eventually too much, Ragnor easily overpowering him in his pathetic state. Defeated, Magnus can only lay there panting while Ragnor whips his shirt up and activates his stamina rune with deadly precision.

The energy surging through his limbs is almost painful, and Magnus whimpers piteously. He stays splayed out on the steps for a few long moments before heaving himself up into a sitting position with a dramatic groan. He shoots a baleful glare at Ragnor. “You know if you wanted some action you just had to ask.”

“Oh please.” Ragnor rolls his eyes. “I’m far too good for you. Besides, you don’t have the right parts.” He sends a dark-eyed stare down his nose at Magnus, as if it’s Magnus’ fault he’s not a woman.

“Now,” he continues briskly. “I don’t have all day. So have some water and some food, enjoy this sunshine with me and tell me what the hell is wrong.” From air, Ragnor produces another sandwich, wrapped neatly in saran wrap and a bottle of water. The sandwich is a little smushed, probably from their impromptu wrestling match, but Magnus can see Catarina’s hand in its crafting through the neatly sliced tomatoes and the fact that it’s a sandwich in the first place and not just a random assortment of sandwich parts thrown at him. Raphael and Ragnor would have never made the effort for him. To be fair, neither would have Magnus.

“You hate sunshine,” Magnus points out as he unwraps the sandwich and takes a bite of it, the glorious flavors of turkey and cheese exploding on his tongue. It reminds Magnus that he hasn’t eaten breakfast yet having been too hungover to stomach any food when he’d woken up.

“I know, I just mentioned it because I thought it might somehow appeal to your mysterious sensibilities, Angel knows, they make no sense to me. Now stop dodging the question.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Magnus says stubbornly as he takes another bite of his sandwich.

Ragnor stays silent, simply watching Magnus, a sceptical eyebrow rising higher and higher with each passing second. Magnus takes another pointed bite of his sandwich.

Ragnor rolls his eyes and says, “This is about the warlock, isn’t it?”

He promptly chokes on his mouthful of food, spending a minute coughing a lung out while Ragnor pounds him on the back. “Why the hell would you say that?” Magnus sputters when he can talk again, eyes still watering from the latest threat to his life.

“I knew it!” Ragnor says instead. “You’re having a bloody crisis over the man aren’t you?”

Magnus simply stares at him.

“Come off it, Magnus. I’ve known you for _years_. You like clubbing, getting drunk, and finding people to sleep with, Angel knows why, because I don’t see the appeal, but you don’t usually go to excess quite like you’ve done these past few days. You haven’t recently exited a relationship that I know of and nothing happened on patrol that was too traumatizing, again that I know of. Your poor mood started the day you met Alexander Lightwood and might I mention you spent the _entire_ day mooning over him every time you saw him. So, it’s _got_ to be him.”

Magnus hates how well Ragnor knows him. “This reasoning all sounds extremely circumstantial and entirely coincidental, Ragnor.”

“It does, doesn’t?” His tone is dry as the desert. Magnus, for one naive second, thinks he might get away after all. “But I’m not an idiot and I know I’m right, so start talking Magnus.”

Magnus holds strong for one whole second before deflating like a punctured balloon. Maybe he does need to talk about this. Certainly nothing he’s been doing before hand has been any help. “Ugh fine. Yes. It is entirely about Alec.”

Ragnor, to his credit, does not crow and preen about being right. He simply nods and says, “Alright, but here’s my issue, here’s what I don’t get. What the hell’s the problem? You clearly like him and from what I’ve seen of who you’ll sleep with, him being a man and a Downworlder shouldn’t be a problem. So what then? What’s the problem? Why aren’t you just going after him the way you go after all the people you fancy?”

Magnus groans and covers his face with his half-eaten sandwich. “Ragnor, he’s not like those other people. He’s-- he’s--” Magnus waves a hand through the air when words fail him.

“He’s what?” Ragnor has a look of honest confusion on his face.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Magnus breathes. “He’s just not like those other people okay! Those other people were just-- They were just fun. Not a big deal. Alec feels bigger than that.”

“Okay…” Ragnor frowns, still looking confused. “So you want a relationship with him? I, uh, honestly, I still don’t see the problem. The only thing that would stop you is if he doesn’t feel the same way and let me say, I don’t think that’s the case.”

Now Magnus is just pissed. “Fucking Angel. Ragnor. He napped in my bed twice. And both times when I saw him, the first thing that came to my head was not, ooh sexy, can I join you, let’s have some fun! It was, can I get in and sleep beside you and can I wake up to your stupid face for the rest of my life!”

“Hmm, wow, okay,” Ragnor says, eyebrow arched.

“Do you _see_ now? Do you see what the problem is? I’ve known him for a day! One day! How can I be having thoughts like that? Also, I don’t do long term relationships! Not after that fucking bi--” Magnus cuts himself off abruptly, looking away, sandwich dangling all but forgotten in his hands. He blinks rapidly, cursing the fact that even _thinking_ about her is damn well bringing him near to tears. He thought he was _over_ this.

A thoughtful silence persists. Magnus stays silent, letting his friend mull things over. He finishes eating his sandwich and then drinks some water from the water bottle, mostly for something to do.

“Magnus,” Ragnor starts softly, a few minutes later. “Look, I know the bitch Belcourt did a number on you. She was awful, absolutely awful. She may as well have been a demon for all the good her angel blood did her. But my friend, you can’t let what she did define you. You can’t let that awful relationship control what you do for the rest of your life. It’s in the past now and-- Look, I’m not saying that Alec is going to be your one and only for the rest of your life. How can we know that? What I’m trying to say is that you should at least give it a chance. If you feel that there’s something there, that something could come of it, shouldn’t you give it a try? If you don’t, if you let your fear hold you back, you’ll never know what might have been.”

Magnus stares into the middle distance. His fingers fiddle with the label on the water bottle. He knows Ragnor is right. The whole entire thing with Camille was one of the worst mistakes of his life, but that’s over and in the past now. It’s been nearly three years since he ended things with her and it’s time to move past it and give someone new a try. Yet knowing all of this, Magnus’ skin still crawls and his gut twists up at the mere thought of a relationship.

“Ragnor, you’re right,” Magnus says, giving voice to his thoughts. “Much as it pains me to say.” He tries to smile teasingly but it comes out more a pained grimace than anything else. “But, I’m still-- It’s still-- Angel, it’s terrifying. The thought of something like that. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Magnus, what you do is up to you of course. But as your friend, I just want to see you happy. And I know all those one-night stands, they won’t help you with that, not in the long term. So even if it isn’t with Alec, I hope you’ll eventually be able to have a relationship with someone, instead of just a bunch of one-night stands.” Ragnor pats his knee gently and Magnus nods. If nothing else, Magnus at least has got his friends.

They sit in companionable silence for a moment, Ragnor clearly letting Magnus absorb his words before he speaks again.

“Now, onto practical matters,” he says briskly, suddenly the Head of the New York Institute instead of Magnus’ best friend. “I’ve taken you off patrol duty for the night.”

“Ragnor!” Magnus protests.

“Uh-uh, don’t complain. You’re exhausted and not in a good frame of mind for patrol. You’d be a liability out there and I know you know that. Angel knows, it’s a miracle nothing happened the past few times you’ve been on patrol recently. So take the rest of today to recuperate. You’ll be on patrol tomorrow night and I expect you to be in tip-top shape for it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Magnus says, trying not to sound too mutinous. Ragnor is, again, as usual, right.

 

***

 

“I vote Magnus to get us the coffees,” Raphael says, looking far too comfortable lounging against a park bench. Behind him, the tall buildings of New York are outlined with the first blushes of dawn.

“I second that,” Catarina says with a mischievous smile. She’s standing beside Raphael, leaning over the bench.

Ragnor just shrugs when Magnus looks to him for help. He’s the only one using the bench at all, but he’s sprawled across it like some sort of pretentious prince generously offering the favor of his time to the lowly peasant folk. Magnus throws his hands up in the air.

“Fine! I’ll go! Angel forbid any of you actually go get your own coffees for once!”

“Oh don’t act so putout,” Raphael says with a roll of his eyes. “You love going to flirt with the baristas.”

Magnus wants to sputter his outrage but Catarina just arches her eyebrow at him. “Come on, it’ll be on me.” She fishes out some bills she’s hidden inside the protective casing of her phone and hands it to him. “Go flirt with some baristas and get us our coffees.”

He glares at her for a moment but takes the bills anyways, heading out of the park for the nearest Starbucks. It’s extremely obvious what his friends are trying to do. It’s been about a week since his talk with Ragnor. As much as he hates to admit it, he’d needed it and it had ended up helping a lot. In Magnus’ not too humble opinion, he thinks he’s pretty much back to his normal self now but they seem to think he still needs an extra push. It’s downright sentimental coming from Raphael and just the sort of thing Catarina and Ragnor would do so he can’t really resent his friends for doing it. Too bad none of them seem to realize that early morning isn’t exactly one of the best times to try getting your flirt on with someone. Everyone, even the baristas, who is up this early and going for coffee usually aren’t civil or functional enough to have any sort of conversation with yet, let alone flirt.

The Starbucks is just as full as Magnus expected it to be when he arrives there. It’s early Monday morning and the start of the working week for most mundanes as Magnus understands it. Every mundane in the city that has a reason to be up at this time is coming to a place like this for their early morning coffee fix. It means Magnus is going to be waiting forever just to have his order taken. There’s not much he can do about it so he takes his phone out to fiddle with it while he’s waiting for his turn.

“Magnus?” A pleasantly surprised voice sounds from behind him. Magnus looks up, trying to blink the Angry Bird’s game he’d been engrossed in from his vision.

“Isabelle!” He says, when he realizes who the voice belongs to. “What a pleasant surprise!” Magnus locks his phone screen and puts it away into his pocket. “It’s lovely to see you, how are you?”

“I am excellent as always,” Isabelle says with a toss of her lovely black hair. “How about you?”

“I am fabulous. There’s just simply no other way to be when you’re me,” Magnus says earning a tinkling laugh from Isabelle.

“Love the outfit by the way,” Magnus continues, giving Isabelle an appreciative once over. She’s looking beautiful in a silver cocktail dress covered in shimmering sequins, a pair of equally as silver high heeled boots on her feet. Her make up is smokey-eyed perfection Magnus is jealous of and her hair has been accented with a silver headpiece. “Did you just come from clubbing?” Magnus asks because this is a clubbing outfit if ever he saw one.

“You could say that,” Isabelle says. “Technically I just got off work.”

“Oh?” Magnus blinks a few times. “Forgive me for being forward, but don’t you have clients? I thought that’s what warlocks did.”

“Yes, I do have clients. This is more of a... side thing.”

“Well, do you mind if I ask what club it is that you work at then?”

At this question Isabelle smiles strangely at him, an odd mix of sly and coy. She bites her lip and grins before saying, “Pandemonium.”

Magnus feels like he’s missing something. “Well you work at an excellent club then,” he says carefully.

“More like co-own it.” Isabelle’s hand twirls a lock of hair between two fingers. “With Alec and Jace.”

“Well you all have done a _very_ good job with the place,” Magnus says. “Can I get free drinks there since I know the owners?” He adds cheekily, though he’s saying it more for the sake of something to say while he tries to figure out what he might be missing.

“Maybe here or there,” Isabelle says coyly, still giving him that strange smile.

“Why are you giving me that look?” he finally says when he can’t take it anymore.

Isabelle giggles. “Sorry. We never said anything before because it was definitely not the right time, but Jace and I actually recognized you from Pandemonium when we saw you at the Institute.”

“Oh Raziel.” Magnus looks towards the heavens before covering his eyes with his hand. Hazy flashes of innumerable nights of drunken debauchery at Pandemonium flash through his mind. There’s a lot he can’t remember, but also a lot that he can and Magnus is embarrassed by a good half of it.

Isabelle laughs then, an unexpectedly hearty guffaw that draws the disgruntled attention of almost all the half asleep mundanes in the Starbucks. It takes Isabelle a few long seconds to regain control of herself. When she does, she straightens herself up and clears her throat primly. Within moments all the mundanes immediately lose interest in her like the good New Yorkers they are.

“Now Magnus, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I am pleased to know you enjoy our club so much. Happy customers are all we aim for.”

“This is just embarrassing,” Magnus mutters, eyes still covered. “If I blame the copious amounts of alcohol will you promise not to judge me too harshly? Better yet, will you promise just to forget about _all_ of it?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure about Jace, but I think I can do that,” Isabelle grins. “But more on account of your great fashion sense. Some of those outfits you wore were simply _amazing_. I didn’t even realize you were a shadowhunter the first couple times I saw you. Most Shadowhunters I’ve seen have _no_ fashion sense whatsoever.”

“I will take that,” Magnus says smiling in return. “And thank you darling, I do try to break the mould every now and again.”

The line moves then. It’s been inching incrementally forward since Isabelle got there and Magnus has some hope of reaching the front within the next ten minutes. That is, until a suspiciously bright eyed woman reaches the front of the line, producing a list with a flourish, and warning the baristas in a clear and strong voice that, “There are a lot of drinks here, so get ready.” There’s a collective groan from the customers and baristas alike at that.

“So coffee after work then?” Magnus says, resigning himself to a much longer wait.

“It’s something we try to do once a week,” Isabelle says, idly studying the drinks menu that has just come into view. “Helps us unwind a little and it’s usually when we tackle any issues we had at the club over the weekend because they’re fresh in our heads. It also means we can go about the rest of our week without worrying too much about club stuff.”

“That’s very responsible of you,” Magnus says grinning. “Maybe if Ragnor held more of his admin meetings in coffee shops I’d be more inclined to attend more often.”

“Oh?” Isabelle laughs. “Are we ducking our responsbilities?”

Magnus laughs as well before shaking his head. “A fair assumption, but no. I have no responsibilities outside of being a senior field operative but Ragnor has been trying to get me to agree to be his second-in-command since our current one, Tessa Grey, started making noises about transferring back to Idris.”

“Leadership not for you?” Isabelle asks kindly.

Magnus shudders in response and Isabelle laughs again.

“I was going to ask what the hold up was, but I think it’s entirely obvious now,” a dry and very familiar voice says from behind them.

Magnus feels his whole body still.

It’s been two weeks since he last saw Alec Lightwood. Time and separation have half-convinced Magnus that he’s been remembering Alec all wrong. They’d met during an emergency where Magnus had been running on no sleep and too many stamina runes. It was entirely possible that his perceptions had been muddled that day and that was why he’d had all those strange and uncontrollably sappy thoughts about Alec. Alec, in reality, was probably not even half as pretty as he was remembering and probably possessed of some appropriately gruesome physical defect that Magnus’ exhausted mind had overlooked on their first meeting like a hooked nose or a hairy mole perhaps.

It’s with these thoughts at the forefront of his mind that Magnus turns around to face the oldest Lightwood again. He is then, of course, entirely unprepared to find out that the warlock is exactly as beautiful as he remembers him to be, maybe, if possible, even more so. He’s dressed in a stylish black suit, tailored to perfection, an emerald button-up shirt bringing out the green in his eyes. Magnus feels a little breathless looking at him.

Alec’s eyes glance about the crowded Starbucks then at his sister before finally landing on him. He seems to startle for a moment before the lop-sided smile appears on his face, exactly the way Magnus remembers it.

“Magnus, hi,” Alec literally breaths.

“Alec,” Magnus chokes out. He feels off-kilter, unbalanced, a little like he just got whacked upside the head and a lot like he did the first time he saw Alec two weeks ago. He is, without a doubt, in deep, deep trouble.

“It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you here,” Magnus says finding himself involuntarily bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overeager toddler. It’s a tic he’d thought he’d gotten rid of years ago and has to consciously stop himself from doing right now.

“Nice to see you here too,” Alec replies.

“You, uh, you--” _Look absolutely delectable_. No. Fuck. He can’t say that. Magnus swallows thickly and tries to gather his scattered thoughts. “You’re feeling better? After that thing at the Institute?” Oh Angel, he sounds like a total dunce. If his friends could hear him right now they’d be pissing themselves laughing.

“Yeah, yeah I am,” Alec says, still sounding breathless and staring at him with bright and shiny hazel eyes. Angel, Magnus could drown in those eyes. “Just needed some sleep and a lot of bacon cheeseburgers, and good as new. Thanks for asking.”

“Bacon cheeseburgers?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alec chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, almost nervously Magnus dares say. “It’s part of my recovery process after a huge magical expenditure. It helps recover my energy.”

“Oh yeah, that spell you did was really very impressive,” Magnus says because he is apparently a squealing twelve-year-old.

“Thanks,” Alec says, flushing red all of a sudden. “The Seelie potion was really something else.”

“It’s like we don’t even exist. This is _fascinating_ ,” Isabelle’s voice says from the side. Magnus hates to say it, but he startles, head snapping to the side, belatedly remembering that he was talking to Isabelle first. Her face is cracked open with a wide gleeful grin and she seems oddly excited. Jace, apparently having arrived at the same time as Alec, stands beside her, studying Magnus and Alec with a deeply thoughtful expression.

“Oh, uh, hey Izzy,” Alec says, face flushing an even darker red. Magnus, to his unending embarrassment, feels his own cheeks warming as well.

Suddenly in his pocket, he feels his phone buzzing, accompanied by a rhythmic beeping noise. He hurriedly fishes his phone out, the screen flashing urgently with a demonic activity alert. Magnus lets out an annoyed huff of air and turns it off. He’s about to speak again when his phone starts buzzing again, this time with an incoming call from Ragnor.

He immediately frowns. “Ragnor,” Magnus says when he answers the phone, tone apprehensive. “We’re not? Are we?”

“What do you think? Of _course_ we are!” Ragnor says crossly.

“Ragnor, we were done patrol an hour ago. The only reason I am not back at the Institute, asleep in my bed is because you three idiots wanted coffee.”

“Magnus, don’t I always say that we’re never truly off duty? Besides, we’re the closest right now. It only makes sense that we’re the ones who go.”

“First, you’ve never said anything like that. Second, you only want to do this because you want to swing your seraph blade at something that will explode and you’ve had a particular lack of that in your life recently,” Magnus says accusingly.

“How dare you suggest such a thing? I take no joy in performing my forsworn duty for it is a serious thing that deserves our utmost respect and focus.” In the background, Magnus can hear Raphael and Catarina laughing uproariously. “Now get your lazy arse down there immediately or do I have to make it an order?” Ragnor doesn’t wait for his reply, simply hanging up the call.

And Ragnor accuses _him_ of being a drama queen.

Magnus slaps his forehead with one hand and breaths a long suffering sigh before taking his phone away from his ear. “Well, it was lovely seeing you all again, but it looks like I must take my leave now. Duty calls apparently.”

“Oh,” Isabelle says. “Well, that’s disappointing. I was going to ask you to stay for coffee with us.” She’s smirking at Alec, who is still flushing red and meticulously taking his turn studying the drinks menu.

“I definitely would have loved to stay,” he mutters as he fiddles with his phone, searching through the alert app to find the exact location of the demonic activity. The app tells him that Ragnor was right and they are indeed the closest patrol to the alert, a mere five New York blocks away, even if they are technically off duty.

“Well, I best get going,” Magnus says looking up, only to find that Alec is looking straight back at him. Magnus loses his train of thought for a moment and it’s a herculean effort to get himself back on track again. “Uh, okay, see you--”

“Let me walk you out,” Alec says suddenly, expression strangely determined.

“Sure,” he says immediately and possibly a little too enthusiastically and definitely an octave higher than normal. Alec quirks a small smile at him and Magnus feels hopelessly lost at sea. He barely remembers to nod a goodbye at Jace and Isabelle before he follows after Alec who leads the way out of the shop. They wade through the sea of Starbucks patrons, making it out relatively unscathed to the other side of the glass doors.

Outside, the New York skyline is lit up with the pale pinks and yellows of sunrise, the early morning streets already bustling with activity.

“Come on,” Alec says tilting his head in the direction of a nearby alleyway.

Frowning, Magnus follows not entirely certain what Alec is intending. It’s a typical New York alley, a little damp and musty despite the summer weather and the air is lightly scented with the less than pleasant odor of rotting garbage. No matter how pretty Alec is, Magnus refuses to make out with him here.

“What’s the location of the alert?” Alec asks when they’re firmly ensconced in the empty alley.

“Um what?” Magnus says.

“Where do you need to go?” Alec says, an amused smile quirking his lips. “I can portal you there.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary-- ” Magnus begins but Alec just shakes his head.

“We’re already out here. Please, humor me.” He looks at Magnus from underneath his long eyelashes. Magnus feels a bit winded at the sight. All he can do is wordlessly hold his phone out, the app open on the screen. Alec looks at it for a moment before nodding.

His hands elegantly spin a portal into existence, and he says, “And your Starbucks order? If you’d been able to get it?”

“Chai tea latte with soy,” Magnus says automatically.

The portal whooshes fully into existence and Alec twists his hand. Suddenly there’s Starbucks cup in his hand, and Magnus catches the faintest whiff of hot chai and milk.

“Drink to go,” Alec says, holding it out for Magnus. Magnus takes it and without fully intending to, the tips of their fingers overlap. Magnus feels his face warming and Alec’s smile widens into that lop-sided grin again.

“Thank you,” Magnus says a little faintly, feeling a stupid smile pulling at his lips. His heart is pounding a steady tattoo against his rib cage and his stomach is swirling with butterflies. He stands for another moment, simply staring at Alec before vaguely remembering there was somewhere he needed to be and something he was supposed to be doing.

“I should go,” Magnus says stupidly. He blinks twice, looks at his drink and then at the portal trying to gather enough of his wits so he can remember where he’s supposed to be going.

“I’ll, uh, see you around,” he says as he steps towards the portal.

“See you around Shadowhunter,” Alec says. The last thing Magnus sees is Alec’s handsome face lit up with a warm smile before he’s swallowed up in the portal magic.

On the other side, Magnus leans against the first wall he can find, breathless giggles falling unbidden from his lips. He’s effusively happy, a state he’s not entirely sure is warranted-- all he did was spend about three minutes alone with Alec. But Alec was warm and kind and so, so handsome and he gave him a drink from Starbucks, and Magnus really, really needs to get a grip on himself.

Suddenly, there’s a tingling sensation on his palm where he’s holding the cup. Blinking, Magnus adjusts his grip so he can lift his hand away to see what’s happening. Lines of bluish white light are inscribing themselves on to the side of the cup where his palm had rested, flowing along like an invisible hand writing something out. When it’s complete, the lines fade to black and Magnus can finally read what it says.

It’s Alec’s name written in a spidery script, a ten-digit number scrawled just below it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this! Constructive criticism is welcome, but please keep all comments respectful and polite.


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